Stockholm Syndrome
by namelessjen
Summary: Sometimes in the deepest of hatred's you fall into a darkness that will do anything to find a spec of light.
1. Day 29

**This is a little different to my other fics. Please tell me how you feel about this as it's the first thing I've been able to write since my terrible writers block. This story will not be in chronological order, so be mindful of the day that will be at the top of every update, and possibly the title of the chapters. THANK YOU. I shall go and write chapters for my other fics now. **

Day 29

The light hit Erin's face with a warm bite. The sun always peeked through the bottom of the window in an attempt to wake her up each morning. She let out a simple yawn, a sense of exhaustion set in through her bones. She'd fallen asleep sitting up again, a habit she'd picked up most recently. Her body ached, her heart raced it was like she had been running a marathon rather than sleeping. Her wrists ached like she'd been pulling on them for hours. It wasn't far from the truth.

She couldn't recall how long it had truly been, it had been weeks, she knew that for sure, but how many was still hanging in the air like a bad smell wafting down around her, a suffocation of sorts.

Her heart was soaring, faint memories surfacing as she was struggling to remember what it felt like to wake up beside the man she loved, to be in a room without shackles, to be free in every sense of the word. It was all in the short distant memories.

She could hear him though, she could hear the hum of the radio, the sizzling of the stove top as he burnt the bacon like he did every morning. The smell drifted through her nostrils, and to be frank she was beginning to feel like she wanted to be vegetarian from now on. It was revolting, her stomach tightened, and although it had been a while she could still remember what it was like to eat what she wanted, when she wanted. This wasn't living, this wasn't what she wanted.

The door squeaked when it opened, she scurried across the bed, not wanting to even look at him, the monster who detained her. The man was short and stubbly, he wore thick rimmed glasses and a big black hoodie seemed to always be atop of whatever he was wearing underneath. "Good morning Erin, I've made you your breakfast." He sang, like this was a scene from The Brady Bunch.

She glared, no other emotion seemed fitting in this situation. Hatred seeped through her body like she was being poisoned painfully slowly, not a feeling she would recommend to a single soul on this sinful planet.

He sat down by her feet, the same feet he's shackled to the bed posts on a shorter chain than those attached to her wrists. He smiles, sending shivers up and down her skin. It's not like he was ugly, or creepy if you saw him walking down the street. He wasn't at all, but this wasn't how you picked up girlfriends. This man was sick, and it brought bile up in her stomach, threatening to projectile vomit all over his pretty boy face.

"I need to use the bathroom." She managed to croak, her voice was sore. She'd spent the first few weeks screaming out, hoping to be heard. She knew they weren't in the city, it was too quiet outside. Her windows were mostly bolted shut, apart from the streaks of light that crept through when the sun hit the window panes.

His face softened when she spoke, she'd never asked a question before. She'd never spoken to him without malice or screaming. It was getting through to him; he was playing right into her hand. He reached for the ring of keys he kept in his pocket, reaching for her ankle to unlock the first restraint. He never unshackled her hands, they were always kept together, just simply detached from the bed. He was afraid, she could see that. He didn't want her to leave him, to tell on him.

The walk to the bathroom was slow, she did that on purpose. It was nice feeling her feet again, to be standing upright, she took her time. He'd wait outside the door, there was no way for her to escape since there wasn't a window or another exit. She knew she was trapped, but it didn't stop her from taking her time. She could barely recognise her reflection, it scared her. It scared her half to death. She was merely a ghost of her past self, a mirage if you will.

The flush of the toilet was louder than she'd liked, she knew she'd only have a few moments before he'd be expecting her to open that door again. The feeling of the cold water splashing against her hands, the feeling of soap rubbing over her skin. It was comforting, something she never thought she'd miss. She longed to take a proper shower, but she knew he wouldn't let her, she couldn't wash her hair with handcuffs on, he'd run the water and step aside, giving her privacy but it wasn't private at all. She barely touched herself, she'd stand there and let the water run down her tiny body, closing her eyes to try and pretend she was anywhere but in that stupid bathroom. It was useless.

He would bang on the door, and she'd jump every time. "I'm coming." She croaked, shuffling towards the door, taking one last shaky breath before opening the door by a twist of the handle. This was her nightmare, and this was only the beginning.

Soon he's chaining her up again, feeling like fifty shades of torture. He hadn't laid a hand on her to date, but she knew he was itching to get it on with her soon. She could see it in his eyes, but to him it wasn't wrong, he had this spooky infatuation with her. He thought this was romantic.

"What's your name?" She asked softly, his eyes milking in the attention as he finished the last lock. He smiled and walked over to where she was sitting, sitting down and cupping her face in his creepy hands. "My name is Samuel." He breathed, leaning in until she could feel his breath hitting her face. This was it, this was him making his move. She wanted to be sick, this wasn't love – she knew what love was. Love was home.


	2. Day 13

**Hello! I've been writing this for the past two days, hope you like it! All feedback is welcome, thank-you so much to those who have already reviewed and favourited, **

Blood pumped vigorously through her unsuspecting veins. The adrenalin was unbearable. Her eyes were closed but all she could see were colours, flashes of pieces, memories like shards of broken glass. She was trapped. She opened her mouth trying to let out an unholy scream. Not a sound escaped, gasping for air she reached out, fumbling forward into a mess of chains. It can't continue, she can't let it go on.

All she wanted was to run, but she was stuck in the mud, stuck without room to move a muscle. Her heart is pumping louder than the echoes that haunt her.

Jay

Jay

Jay

He's nowhere to be found. The sweat falls, seeping out over her skin, like she's sitting in a sauna without any doors. She can feel her muscles - they're fighting but she's losing the battle. There's nowhere for her to run, no way for her to be freed.

She's damaged, she's broken and nobody an hear her scream. A howling whisper escapes her lips but she's all alone. The name falls out and it gets lots in the air.

This is her own personal nightmare.

It's been like this for days, jump starting movements around the bed trying to break free. She hasn't eaten, she hadn't fed on anything except the nightmares that fuel her soul. She's a ghost in her own personal hell, a dragon without a breath of flaming fire. She's tortured like a hell dog, chained back from her prey.

All the thrashing, the crying, the searching for an escape. She's delirious, exhausted from this never ending dream. It has to be s dream.

She's tried to wake up, tried writing it off as a night terror. A nightmare that doesn't go away when she opens her eyes, a nightmare that exists wherever she goes. It's nonstop, like a train leaving its platform. The only way out is a way out of her own soul, to let go of everything she's holding onto, to leave her own body and switch it all off.

Her chest is tighter than it's ever felt before. She's not coping, not coping at all. Her world is crashing down around her, earth shattering, heart breaking behaviour.

The fear in her chest tightens around her ability to breathe, like a snake strangling unsuspecting prey she's being held against her will. Every sense has been switched on, every sense is in overdrive. She's a nutcase, she's going insane every second that passes. She's an animal, caged against her will. It's exhausting, this is crazy. She doesn't know what to think, what to say, what to do because she can't think straight.

She knows he's out there, waiting, watching, listening to the sounds of her struggle. She can't hold on much longer, she can't live like this anymore. She holds back her breath, but her body is fighting against her. You can't suffocate yourself, it's not how it's done. She wants to rip out her own hair, scratch our her eyes, do anything to stop him from getting what he wants. The exhaustion is taking over, her eyes droop closed and her body drifts away until she see him smiling in her thoughts. She's on a roller coaster that never ends, just a tunnel filled with twists and bends up ahead.

Her mind is shaking, splashing memories like a witch dosing her potion. She can feel her body trembling, a sleep is all she wants, to fall deep into a blissful slumber. It's not fair, she shouldn't be here, she shouldn't live like this.

He's taken her free will away, taken her mind more each and every day. It's toxic, she can't filter her mind, her thoughts are filled with images of her captor, stalking her like prey, taking her away from the world, from the people she loves, the people she'd do anything to see just one more time.

He's the main attraction, the subject of her everyday dream. She can't close her eyes, she can't even scream.

It's a nightmare, through the night, and throughout the day. She can't run, she can't breathe, she can't live.

This isn't living, this is barely surviving.

He's taken it all away.

He's a monster.

"Jay!" The voice escaping her lips was filled with fear, filled with need and want. That's all she wanted right now, he was nowhere to be seen. It had been too long, she knew he would be searching, she knew he wouldn't let this guy get away with this heinous act. That wasn't who he was, that wasn't the type of guy he prided himself in being.

The silence echoed in her ears, it was deafening. All she could hear was a ringing in her ears, the poking of silence into her head, it felt invading. She knew she wasn't alone, she knew he wouldn't leave her on her own for long. It was day time; she knew that by the temperature. He was probably at work. That's what she'd been guessing anyway.

She was all alone, trapped, confused and scared out of her own depth. She was drowning in her own sorrows, reaching for her love, knowing he was nowhere in her sights. This was hell, this was actually hell.

She knew her captor was listening, she knew he was listening to her panics, loving the sounds of her broken screams. He got a thrill out of it, a sick thrill out of the fact that she was hurting, hurting more than she could bear to admit even to herself.

She was trapped.

She was locked in a house with a monster, and nobody could hear her scream, nobody knew where to find her, lost in a darkness, stuck in her own nightmares. She was struggling to keep herself afloat. This wasn't living, this was a nightmare.


	3. Day 7

Day 7

Her ears were constantly pricked to the sounds around her. All she needed was some hope. She didn't seem to find any.

The cracks on the ceiling were driving her insane, she's counted them over a thousand times in the past seven days, feeling so lost in their crooked lines and their distrustful path out of the room. She always knew what time it was by the sounds she heard.

The mornings she heard birds singing outside, they sang because they could, because they were free. Erin envied their freedom, for she was now a slave under his command. He'd come in and offer her food, she never accepted.

Her hope was draining faster than water being strained away from her spaghetti, and oh how she missed spaghetti. She missed the simple things too, like using her own bathroom, combing her hair, brushing her teeth, watching the television. She missed unlocking her apartment door and rushing up the stairs as she's late to work. She missed all of it, everything she's never noticed in her life.

There was no more fighting Jay for the morning paper, or listening to Platt at the front desk every time she walked past. She even missed Alvin eating fruit in the office, and spitting the seeds straight into his waste basket. A habit she once found annoying and disgusting, but there she was with tears in her eyes as she remembered those moments fondly.

She looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she'd ever be able to experience that kind of life again, she wasn't usually one to give up hope but right now all she could think about was the fact that she was dying.

She didn't trust the food he was giving her, so she was starving, her body was weak and her mind was delirious. She kept talking to people from her past, people who weren't there. She didn't want to sleep but her eyes would flutter closed in the night and no matter how hard she fought, she'd always end up drifting off to sleep. The nightmare never took a break; visions of her own mutilation came inside her head. She could feel herself needing to scream but no voice every came out.

She ignored him every time he came into her room. He was always trying to be kind, but that just made her angry and her anger made her exhausted. The cycle never ended, all she could do was cry and sleep and dream. The dreams were the worst part, worse than any hunger pains or the burning rope that dug too far into her flesh. She's rubbed her skin raw so that every movement shot pain through her limbs. She was scared, so scared of what might become of her.

He had little patience, continuously trying to make her eat and drink. Sometimes forcing her to swallow water at room temperature; it sometimes made her gag but the moisture was addicting against her tongue.

One night she began to hum, a song her mother used to sing whenever she was drunk. Erin can remember it clearly as a young girl lying underneath the kitchen table, listening to her mother sing at the top of her lungs. She didn't have a musical bone in her body, and her lung capacity made it difficult to sing every verse on time, but she still sang every night for about a year.

That song sprung to mind because it was triggered by memories of the worst years of her life, a time when she felt forgotten, a time when she wasn't being fed, and she was too scared to do anything but lay there underneath that table. Her mother scared her, her mother was everything she didn't want to be. Her mother was poison.

"You need to eat something today." Her captor told her as he sat down at the foot of her bed. He unveiled the tray of food, unopened TV dinner assortments were steaming as if they'd just been heated. Her mouth salivated at the smell of the food, it had been too long since her last meal. She couldn't even remember what that had been.

She reluctantly accepted the food, but refused to eat with him around. The sight of him made her feel sick. When she'd eaten it all, she pushed the tray away from her and curled up into a ball of pretend sleep. She didn't want him to talk to her, she just wanted him to go away.


End file.
